Lifestyle
Your Zodiac Sign Is 2,000 Years Out of Date
Whether you care about horoscopes or not, you probably know your zodiac sign. You’ve probably known it for most of your life.
Zodiac signs were originally based on the stars. But over thousands of years, our view of the stars has shifted. That means, if you account for this shift, your sign might not be what you think.
Below, we’ll tell you what it would be instead.
There are three reasons the zodiac signs no longer line up with the constellations they’re named after.
1. Earth’s wobble
The Earth wobbles like a top. A spinning top starts to wobble soon after it is set into motion. The Earth does the same thing, only more slowly.
It takes 26,000 years for the North pole to trace out a complete circle in the sky, pointing at different stars along the way. Scientists call this wobbling motion axial precession.
This wobble means that our view of the stars shifts by one degree every 72 years. Over centuries, this difference builds up.
And it’s not just the Northern stars that shift in our view because of Earth’s wobble, but all stars — including the zodiac constellations.
Take the spring equinox, usually around March 20, the first day of spring in the Northern hemisphere (and the start of the zodiac calendar in Western astrology).
This shift in our view of the stars was discovered by Hipparchus over 2,000 years ago. Since you can’t see stars during the day, he waited for a lunar eclipse — when the moon is directly opposite the sun — and used the moon’s position to work out where the sun was.
By comparing his measurement with earlier ones, he found that our view of the stars shifts by about one degree per century — not too far from modern measurements.
Today, Western astrology uses the tropical zodiac system, which is based on the positions of the stars more or less as they would have appeared to Hipparchus, and not as they appear today.
That means that the zodiac signs familiar to Americans are in sync not with the stars, but with the seasons: Aries starts on the first day of spring, even though the sun is now in front of Pisces then.
In contrast, the Indian system of astrology uses the sidereal zodiac, which accounts for Earth’s wobble and aligns zodiac signs to the stars.
While these two systems were initially aligned, they have been drifting apart ever since. Western astrologers are well aware of this mismatch, but they don’t see a problem with basing the signs on the stars as they were two millennia ago.
“Astrologers using the tropical zodiac are just using what they consider to be an equally valid system,” said Dorian Greenbaum, a historian of astrology who teaches at the University of Wales Trinity Saint David.
2. Constellations differ in size
The zodiac signs were created around 2,500 years ago by the Babylonians.
Their star catalogs listed at least 17 zodiac constellations. But they eventually simplified these into the 12 zodiac constellations we know today, each 30 degrees wide, as if slicing the sky into 12 equal slices.
But constellations aren’t really the same size. In 1928, astronomers divided the sky into 88 officially recognized constellations, each one shaped like its own puzzle piece.
Official constellations along the sun’s annual path
“They are not nice equal pieces,” said Stacy Palen, emeritus professor at Weber State University. “They’re like jagged shapes that are not symmetric in any way.”
Based on these boundaries, the sun spends more than twice as much time in front of Virgo as in front of Cancer. And it spends only a week in front of Scorpio — if you include Ophiuchus, that is.
Which brings us to the last reason the 12 signs don’t align with the zodiac constellations.
3. Ophiuchus
Ophiuchus is the 13th constellation along the sun’s path, according to astronomers. (It even has its own emoji: ⛎.) Ophiuchus means “serpent bearer” in Ancient Greek, and is usually depicted as a man holding a snake. If you squint, you can kind of see why.
So for people born during the sign of Scorpio 2,000 years ago, Ophiuchus was more likely behind the sun on their birthday. (And because of Earth’s wobble, most Sagittarians today were also born when Ophiuchus was behind the sun.)
We don’t really know why the Babylonians left out Ophiuchus from their zodiac signs. They may have originally had a different name for it. But historians believe that when Babylonians simplified their zodiac system, they wanted the 12 zodiac signs to match the 12 months of their calendar. Ophiuchus didn’t make the cut.
A ‘shape-shifter’
Astronomy and astrology have little in common today, and there’s no scientific basis to the idea that the movements of the stars and planets influence our future or our personalities. But the two disciplines started out as the same thing thousands of years ago.
“If you were an astronomer, you were also an astrologer,” Professor Greenbaum said.
The Babylonians viewed the planets as gods, and planetary motions as omens that could foretell the fortunes of kings and kingdoms. This motivated them to look for patterns in the sky.
Even by the 17th century, many astronomers were also practising astrologers. Johannes Kepler, who discovered how planets move in ellipses, probably learned astrology at college, and created horoscopes for friends and patrons. Galileo practiced astrology and sold horoscopes on the side.
“Their side hustle was to cast horoscopes for their rich patrons because that paid the bills,” said Tyler Nordgren, an astronomer and author.
Eventually, during the Enlightenment, astrology was divorced from astronomy and was no longer considered a legitimate science, Professor Greenbaum said.
“It was kicked out of the universities,” he said. “But there were still practitioners.”
Today, we understand the laws governing the motions of planets and stars well enough to send spacecraft to distant worlds, detect gravitational waves and take pictures of a black hole. At the same time, over a quarter of Americans believe that the positions of the stars and planets can affect their lives.
So why has belief in astrology endured, while other methods of divination like ornithomancy (finding omens in the behavior of birds) or tyromancy (fortune telling with a block of cheese) have drifted into obscurity?
“Astrology is a shape-shifter,” Professor Greenbaum said. “Astrology goes along with whatever’s in vogue and manages to survive.”
Because those constellations are behind the sun, they’re in the daytime sky, and so you can’t actually see them on those dates. You’ll need to wait until they’re in the night sky, about six months from the date you entered.
How we found your sign
Though the astrological zodiac calendar is well known, there are small ways ours may differ from other sources. To calculate your astrological zodiac sign, we divided the sun’s annual path across the sky (known as the ecliptic) into 12 equal divisions of 30 degrees, beginning with the March equinox, which marks the beginning of Aries. This is the tropical zodiac system, in which zodiac signs are aligned to the seasons.
To calculate the astronomical zodiac constellation behind the sun, we used the Astronomy Engine software library to locate the sun on every day of the year and determine the astronomical constellation behind it.
We based our zodiac calculations on the current year, and on the position of the sun at noon UTC every day. A more accurate calculation of your sign would involve knowing the exact time and year of your birth, and as a result our calculations may be off by a day or so. This primarily affects people whose birthdays are on the cusp between two signs, or between two constellations.
To create the 3D illustrations of the stars, we used a repository of celestial data for the 88 official constellations, and oriented these constellations based on Earth’s view of the stars on a given date.
The astronomical calculations account for precession (the slow wobble in Earth’s axis of rotation), nutation (a slight wiggle in the tilt of Earth’s axis), and the gradual drift of Earth’s elliptical orbit.
Our star maps do not account for the movement of individual stars through space, relative to each other, known as proper motion. This movement is typically so slow as to be minimal over centuries, but the positions of some of the stars in the Northern sky during the last ice age may be in slightly different locations than shown.
In our visualizations, we used the familiar names Scorpio and Capricorn instead of the official names for those constellations: Scorpius and Capricornus. The seasons we describe are for the Northern hemisphere. The Earth’s orbit around the sun is actually counterclockwise when viewed from above; we show it orbiting clockwise for illustrative purposes. The Earth and the sun are not to scale.
Sunday Puzzle
NPR
hide caption
toggle caption
NPR
This week’s challenge
Today’s puzzle is a tribute to Mimi. Every answer is a familiar two word phrase or name in which each word starts with the letters MI-.
Ex. Assignment for soldiers –> MILITARY MISSION
1. Pageant title for a contestant from Detroit
2. One of the Twin Cities
3. Nickname for the river through New Orleans
4. Super short skirt
5. Neighborhood in Los Angeles that contains Museum Row
6. Just over four times the distance from the earth to the moon
7. Goateed sing-along conductor of old TV
8. American financier who pioneered so-called “junk bonds”
9. Little accident
10. Land-based weapon in America’s nuclear arsenal
11. In “Snow White,” the evil queen’s words before “on the wall”
Last week’s challenge
Last week’s challenge comes from Benita Rice, of Salem, Ore. Name a famous foreign landmark (5,4). Change the eighth letter to a V and rearrange the result to make an adjective that describes this landmark. What landmark is it?
Answer
Notre Dame –> Renovated
Winner
Chee Sing Lee of Bangor, Maine
This week’s challenge
This week’s challenge comes from James Ellison, of Jefferson City, Mo. Think of a popular movie of the past decade. Change the last letter in its title. The result will suggest a lawsuit between two politicians of the late 20th century — one Republican and one Democrat. What’s the movie and who are the people?
If you know the answer to the challenge, submit it below by Thursday, April 23 at 3 p.m. ET. Listeners whose answers are selected win a chance to play the on-air puzzle.
This story is part of Image’s April’s Thresholds issue, a tour of L.A. architecture as it’s actually experienced.
A landmark is a landmark because it tells you that you’re home now — the piece of earth you’ve chosen to inhabit saying, “You’ve made it back, congratulations.” We identify our cities with their landmarks, and because we identify with our cities, we identify with the landmarks too. They are us and we are them, mirroring each other through eternity. A city like New York or Chicago, with the Chrysler Building, the Bean, etc., has landmarks that exist in the world’s popular consciousness. But L.A.’s most cherished landmarks belong to us and us alone, a secret you’re let in on if you live here long enough and pay attention.
The Fashion Nova baddie in horizontal sprawl off the Vertigo, for example, is an emblem for those in the know. Our twisted version of a capitalist guardian angel, patron saint of spandex in a cropped matching set. Welcome to El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles de Fashion Nova. Merging on the 110 South from the 10 East while the sunset burns and traffic thickens is a miracle in more ways than one, and in the spirit of compulsively performing the sign of the cross when you pass a church on the freeway, this billboard is deserving of its own acknowledgment.
It may not be the landmark L.A. asked for, but in Sayre Gomez’s painting “Vertigo,” you begin to understand why it’s the one we deserve. At the opening for “Precious Moments,” Gomez’s solo show at David Kordansky, the room was vibrating. A game of energetic ping-pong unfolded underneath the gallery’s fluorescent light, beams of identification, recollections or stabs of grief bouncing off each piece in the exhibition. People were seeing hyperspecific parts of a city they love reflected in a hyperspecific way — for better and for worse. Recognition has two edges and they both happen to be sharp. Gomez twists the knife deeper for a good cause: He wants you not just to look but to really see.
In his work exist iconic signs of beloved local establishments — like the Playpen — the blinding glint reflecting off downtown’s skyline, telephone poles regarded as totems. The line to see Gomez’s replica of L.A.’s graffiti towers, “Oceanwide Plaza,” snaked through the gallery’s courtyard. Once inside, at least three graffiti writers whose names were blasted on the replica pointed it out proudly, even gave out stickers to take home. The truth can be beautiful and it can be ugly — in this case it’s both — on the flip side showing up in the form of smog, tattered flags and an abandoned graffiti tower that starkly represents the pitfalls of capitalism and greed, a neon arrow pointing to the homelessness crisis.
Because the Vertigo is something everybody who lives here recognizes as central to a sort of framework of Los Angeles. And I think the encampment has become that as well. It’s connecting these integral components — something that’s more revelatory and more fun with something that’s more grave.
— Sayre Gomez
In the main gallery, I was stuck on “Vertigo.” On the 12-foot canvas, my eye went to the place out of focus: the thin strip of billboard in the background featuring a young woman with sand-dune hips, patent knee-high boots and long black hair laid up on her side, wearing cat ears and a tiger bodysuit as flush as second skin. The model made the kind of eye contact that felt dangerous — might cause an accident if you’re not careful. “#1 Halloween Destination … FASHION NOVA,” it read. I knew her, anyone who has driven through the two main arteries of Los Angeles knows her. The black-and-white smiley motif of the Vertigo, an events space, sat right next to her face, just happy to be there, it seemed, above a painted sign that says “Ready to Party?”
The sky was the color of cotton candy, but the stale kind that’s been hardening in a plastic bag for days after the fair. Something rancid about it. In the foreground of the painting was a car encampment with a tattered floral sheet woven through the windows, cloth tarps and couch cushions creating a shield against the elements. Small plastic children’s toys lined at the top of the car — dinosaurs and dump trucks and sharks — creating their own shrunken skyline in front of the Vertigo, signaling that young kids likely lived there. It’s less juxtaposition for juxtaposition’s sake and more an accurate reflection of the breakneck duality of living in a place like L.A.
Even angels exist within the context of their environments. Our Fashion Nova baddie hangs off the Vertigo, a building that has used its ad space as physical clickbait and political posturing for over a decade. It’s promoting the kind of fast fashion brand that’s been regarded as a case study on the industry’s environmental impact. In the years the billboard has been up, it’s looked over dozens and dozens of car encampments like the one depicted in Gomez’s piece.
She feels dubious, yes. But no less like ours.
Julissa James: I’ve lived in L.A. for 13 years now. For me, the city and the architecture of the city is less the Frank Lloyd Wrights and Frank Gehrys — there’s that — but other landmarks that signal, “Oh, I’m home.” The Fashion Nova baddie above the Vertigo has always been that for me. Your piece is layered and there’s so much more to it than just that, but that’s the first thing I saw and was like, “Whoa. I need to talk to Sayre. We need to talk about ‘Vertigo.’”
Sayre Gomez: It’s like L.A.’s Statue of Liberty. It’s the city of anti-landmarks, you know what I mean? I mean, there’s the Hollywood sign, which I think is so telling, because it’s the remnants of a real estate venture. The city is built by real estate schemes and 100 years later we’re feeling the effects of it. You’ve got empty skyscrapers and a massive homeless catastrophe. L.A. doesn’t really have real landmarks. It has anti-landmarks.
JJ: When did the Fashion Nova billboard above the Vertigo click for you as something that felt representative of the city, or something that you wanted to depict?
SG: My studio is in Boyle Heights, so I pass that billboard multiple times a week. This is my 20th year in L.A. and that building’s always been a big mystery to me. It was empty when I moved here before this guy Shawn Farr bought it and turned it into Casa Vertigo. I think he probably makes more money on it with the ad space than anything. I know nobody who has ever been there. Very mysterious to me. So that’s what I was drawn to.
(Paul Salveson from David Kordansky Gallery)
The Vertigo has always been mysterious to me. And that whole fashion industry is mysterious to me — the kind of shmatta, American Apparel-adjacent, or maybe coming out of the wake of that. These kinds of businesses, or the representations of these businesses, how do they function and how do they flourish? Is it aboveboard? What more perfectly encapsulates that than that building? It’s this weird thing you can’t quite figure out but somehow it has a lot of money and then it’s an event space, supposedly billed as that. Clearly it’s this big ad thing, and I’m very interested in the changing dynamics of capital. The capital of yesteryear, which was based on the brick and mortar, where things are being made in a specific location, maybe on an assembly line or in a specific way, to a kind of capital that is based solely on advertising or on viewership. These beautiful buildings acting as pedestals for some kind of ad space, you know? It becomes an anti-landmark for me. Something where I’m like, “Oh, there’s that thing again.”
JJ: It’s this gorgeous Beaux Arts building …
SG: It’s a Freemason building!
JJ: When I’ve talked to some people about the Vertigo, they’re like, “the Fashion Nova building?”
SG: They always have the woman in the same pose — same pose, different clothes. If you remember before Fashion Nova, they would have these provocative ad campaigns or provocative slogans. “Twerk Miley” was up, remember that? They did a Trump one: “TRUMP NOW.” They did one for Kanye when he ran for president. The 10 and the 110 are literally the crossroads of the city, so it’s really poised to be a special building. It has a special designation because of the location.
JJ: Talk to me about the process of doing this piece. Where did it start and how did it evolve?
SG: I was cruising around that vicinity trying to see if I could get a good vantage point to take photos of Vertigo. And then I stumbled upon this car — the car that’s in the foreground of the painting. Anytime I see an encampment that has kids’ toys, things that reference back to the lives of children, it hits hard. But I like to lay it all out there. I like to make things confrontational. I want it to be difficult. The painting isn’t based on a one-to-one photo [Gomez paints from a composite rendering of images he’s taken around town], but I knew that I wanted to use that car, and I knew I wanted to get the Vertigo building, and so I started just messing around with different iterations. I could never find a good angle to take a good photo of the building, so I just went on Vertigo’s website and I was like, “I’m just using these.” I switched the sky and put a more moody, atmospheric sky in.
JJ: Which I loved, because we know that feeling — you’re merging onto the 110 and you see a beautiful sunset. The euphoria of like, “L.A. is the best city in the world.” But you know what? What I found so interesting about your piece is that it was revealing to me about myself, but also about so many of us that live in L.A. and have lived here for years and have developed a jadedness. When I saw your piece, immediately I was like, “Oh my God, the Vertigo! The Vertigo! The Vertigo!” And then I was like, “OK, wait, hold on, there’s so much more going on here.” But the fact that my eye went to that first instead of the car encampment, the kids’ toys, brought up a lot of questions about my own relationship to the city and the things that we choose to see, the things that maybe we’ve seen so much of that we subconsciously filter it out. Why was it important for you to put these two things up against each other in this way?
SG: Because the Vertigo is something everybody who lives here recognizes as central to a sort of framework of Los Angeles. And I think the encampment has become that as well. It’s connecting these integral components — something that’s more revelatory and more fun with something that’s more grave. That’s what I’m doing in my work at large. I use the sunsets and the beauty to create a dialogue, to entice people to sort of look a little bit at how things are contextualized, how things act, what’s actually happening. I don’t make things in a vacuum. I was working on this show and I was going to really push this agenda of incorporating more of my experience with my kids into the work. That’s also a double-edged sword. I wanted to interject some levity, because the work can get so dark. I wanted to bring in some iconography from their world and things that they get excited about. When you’re juxtaposing that with really stark things, it becomes darker. I want to thicken the stock a little bit. Make things a little more complex.
Phil Pritchard of the Hockey Hall of Fame works the 2019 NHL Awards at the Mandalay Bay Events Center on June 19, 2019 in Las Vegas, Nevada. (Photo by Bruce Bennett/Getty Images)
Bruce Bennett/Getty Images
hide caption
toggle caption
Bruce Bennett/Getty Images
This week’s show was recorded in Chicago with host Peter Sagal, judge and guest scorekeeper Alzo Slade, Not My Job guest Phil Pritchard and panelists Alonzo Bodden, Adam Burke, and Dulcé Sloan. Click the audio link above to hear the whole show.
Who’s Alzo This Time
The Don Vs The Poppa; World’s Worst Doctor; Should We Eat That?
Panel Questions
Big Cheese News!
Bluff The Listener
Our panelists tell three stories about someone missing a huge opportunity in the news, only one of which is true.
Not My Job: Phil Pritchard, the NHL’s Keeper of the Stanley Cup, answers three questions about the other NHL, National Historic Landmarks
Peter talks to Phil Pritchard, the NHL’s Keeper of the Stanley Cup. Phil plays our game called, “Let’s Go Visit The NHL” Three questions about National Historic Landmarks.
Panel Questions
The Trump Dump and Air Traffic Control Becomes Animal Control
Limericks
Alzo Slade reads three news-related limericks: Spice Up Your Spring Cleaning; A Fizzy Meaty Drink; The Right Way to Eat Peeps.
Lightning Fill In The Blank
All the news we couldn’t fit anywhere else
Predictions
Our panelists predict the next big AirBnB story in the news
-
Austin, TX3 minutes agoHow Texas’ road, bridge conditions compare to other states
-
Alabama9 minutes agoAlabama edge to pattern his game after 2-time Super Bowl Champ
-
Alaska15 minutes agoAlaska Senate committee advances draft capital budget, boosting funds for school maintenance
-
Arizona21 minutes agoPerson accused of making terroristic threats to medical facility in northern Arizona
-
Arkansas27 minutes agoCentral Arkansas council hands out 300 free produce bags at Saline County fresh market
-
California33 minutes agoCalifornia regulators kill charity fireworks for America’s 250th, sparking outrage
-
Colorado39 minutes agoOutgoing Colorado Buffaloes Sebastian Rancik, Bangot Dak Make Transfer Portal Moves
-
Connecticut45 minutes agoOne arrested after a multi-car crash in Naugatuck Saturday